Thursday, October 6, 2011

Writing Fun with Nursery Rhymes



To market to market, to build a platform: Home again, home again, nice and warm.
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Oh where, oh where has my little plot gone? Oh where, oh were could it be? With its conflict cut short and its description cut long, oh where, oh where could it be?
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Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and whey; along came an agent, who sat down beside her and she frightened the agent away.
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Old Mother Goose, when she wanted to wander, would ride through her fiction, with very fine diction.
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Little Bo-Peep has lost her sleep and can’t tell where to find it; leave it alone, and the characters will come home, wagging their tails behind them.
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Jack and Jill sold novels up the hill to fetch a right good number; Jack’s numbers fell down and broke his pride, and Jill came tumbling after.
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There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many story ideas she didn’t know what to do; she gave them some time without any pages; she kissed them all soundly and put them to bed.
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This little piggie went to market, this little piggie wrote alone, this little piggie had many tweets, this little piggie had none, and this little piggie cried tweet-tweet-tweet, all the way home.
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Star light, star bright, first book on my TBR pile I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, read the book I pick tonight.
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Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town, upstairs and downstairs like a muse, a clown, knocking at the window, crying at the boys in the basement, are your characters out of their beds, for now it’s eight o’clock?
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Humpty Dumpty wrote on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty’s bad handwriting together again.
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There was a little girl, and she had a little curl right in the middle of her novel; when her endings were good they were very very good, but when they were bad they were horrid.
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Monday’s child is fair of pace, Tuesday’s child is full of grace, Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go, Friday’s child is a newbie at weaving , Saturday’s child works hard for its living, but the child that writes on the Sabbath day is devoted and decided, and good and paid.


*photo from Flickr

10 comments:

Yvonne Blake said...

Ha Ha Ha! I loved these!

Keli Gwyn said...

Wendy, you are sooo clever! Loved these. =)

Joanne Sher said...

Soo cute and clever!!

Casey said...

What fun! LOL! Loved them. :) Thanks for this fun Thursday pick-me-up Wendy!

Jeanne T said...

Very creative and fun, Wendy! Love the tuths you wove into these rhymes. :)

Ralene said...

Ooo...I love it!

I got one to share:

Georgie, porgie, a novelist by nigh.
Wrote the stories to make girls cry.

Sarah Forgrave said...

Oh my word, Wendy, how creative! I'm in awe. This was so fun!

Wendy Paine Miller said...

Yvonne, Thanks, I had fun coming up with them.

Keli, I don't know about that clever thing, but it kept my brain busy for a few minutes.

Joanne, It always fascinates me how many nursery rhymes have such perilous lines in them...how they were created as warnings.

Casey, Glad it picked you up & thanks for the tweet. I notice on my days the tweet dealio up there never records the correct #. Oh well.

Jeanne, It was fun to play. Got my mind off more serious writing matters.

Ralene, Nice! Yep, I forgot to insert a line about having readers try their hand at one. Glad you did anyway!

Sarah, Fun it was to write. Yoda I am this evening.

Thanks for commenting on this very light post.
~ Wendy

MaDonna Maurer said...

Way too fun!

Pepper said...

Oh so funny, Wendy!